It was out of fear that Linnea was married off right away. There were those that were worried that the king would fall ill again, and this time he would not recover. Linnea’s melancholy state had left her unsuitable to be a leader, and her husband was an educated and nobleman. He was kind to her, and she did not hate him, but she would never learn to love him.

Regardless, she served him dutifully as his wife and quickly became burdened with child. The pregnancy was quicker than expected. What should have been a day of celebration turned into one of horror as she gave birth to a large green pod. A priest was called, who quickly declared Linnea cursed by dark magic, and that the pod would need to be burned in order for her to be cleansed.

But she refused to have her child taken away. She hid the pod within a box under her bed, and her husband helped her burn a replacement. He truly was a good and kind man, and that was when Linnea decided to tell them the truth behind her adventures. Despite her flaws, he still accepted her, and it wasn’t long before they expected another child. This time it was a boy, with auburn hair like his mother, and eyes like his father. With this child, Linnea would continue her duties as raised him the best she could.

Yet she felt nothing but grief. For every step of progress this child made, the one hidden beneath her bed was being denied. He was a handsome child, she taught him much, was kind like his father, and beloved by many, but it did nothing by cause Linnea pain to watch him grow.

When her father died, and when her husband took his place as king, Linnea could stand it no longer. It was in the middle of the night when she disappeared, taking her firstborn with her. Her husband would forgive her, but her son never would. Not that Linnea would care, she never returned to her home again.

Years passed and her son would eventually get married and have a prince of his own. One that had been taught many stories by his grandfather about his grandmother. He would gain a wanderlust from it, and against his father’s wishes, he set out on an adventure of his own in order to find his grandmother.

He would not leave himself unguarded. Nicolaos’ sanctuary had long since been filled with fae, and many were dangerous to humans. The prince wandered about the edge of the woods until he saw an old wolf. One as large as a horse, and covered in old battle wounds, just as his grandfather had described Mother.

Dismounting the horse, he followed the wolf to a grove. There were two oleander trees growing at the center, both were full in bloom. One had lilac flowers, another had orange, and beneath them slept two of the most beautiful beings the prince had ever seen. As beautiful and strange as they were, the prince couldn’t help but feel connected to them.

They woke at his presence, and he tried to explain who he was. Neither of the nymphs seemed to understand much of what he was saying. When asked about his grandmother, they did know at least something. The spirits were their teachers, and they had taught them that she was their mother, although neither flower had met her themselves.

After returning to this place, Linnea had buried the pod where their father had died. She brought them a deer every year and taught the flowers that were born about the world around them. When there were no flowers to be seen, she put on a disguise and traveled about Orlean. Any stray fae that she found were given sanctuary here.

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She was a wise woman who was loved by all, but that’s all the flowers knew about her. Seeking more answers, the prince ventured out into the woods again. He sang songs with elves, helped gnomes with their tinkering, and watched the faeries tend to blackberry flowers. There were weeks spent learning stories of his grandmother, but no one knew what had happened to her.

Mother was his guide on most days. Her presence alone was enough to make most fae behave themselves, and they were more than helpful when they realized that the prince was Linnea’s grandmother. He was provided with food and shelter during his search, and there finally came a day where someone told him that there was a part of the woods that no one ventured to.

The prince immediately headed there and was surprised to see that it was nothing more than a collapsed tower. He carefully made his way in, and the bottom half of the tower appeared to have once been a shelter for someone. There were old furs up that were hung up to dry, and what remained of a cooking area. What surprised him most was that there was a giant lizard’s head hanging on the wall, long ago mummified and covered in dust.

“And who are you?” The mummified head of Nicolaos croaked.

Clutching at his chest, the prince felt like he nearly had a heart attack from hearing the dead dragon speak. He explained who he was and that he was looking for his grandmother. Nicolaos took his time to respond. So much so that the prince wondered if the first question was just a fluke. Perhaps the creaking of trees, or a bird’s song that he had mistaken for words.

“She’s dead,” muttered the dragon. “She never did quite figure out how to keep this place maintained, and it collapsed upon her. With the last of her strength, she dragged herself to her children and let them devour her. Nymphs are not particularly picky creatures. They will devour whatever flesh they can get.”

So she was dead after all. It hardly surprised the prince, but he couldn’t help but mourn the woman he had never met. He thanked Nicolaos for his time and turned to leave.

A snarl escaped from the dragon’s desiccated lips. “Your blood has obeyed my wishes for generations. Do not think you can escape simply because I do not have the means to chase you.”

The prince lent Nicolaos an ear and agreed to his terms. He took the dragon’s head back to the grove and placed it at the base of the tree. Tiny worm-like roots came through the dirt and dragged the skull deep beneath the earth below. Nicolaos’ final wish was to be free of his torment, and he would no longer feel the desperation to feed upon magic again.

Confused, the nymphs asked what he was doing. The prince explained, and they still didn’t seem to get it. Regardless, he made the time to be careful about his words, at least until he was somewhat convinced that they understood his intentions. Then he gave them each a kiss on the cheek and told them that he would always love them as family. This only succeeded in confusing the nymphs all the further.

None of that mattered though. The prince would be the last human to ever enter these woods. He would make sure that his people learned of what his grandmother had worked so hard to protect, and that they would never bother they fae again.

Oleanders do not live forever, even with the power of magic. The nymphs were the last of their kind, and they would never have children of their own. That was something that never bothered them. Flowers were hardly bothered my much, but the two couldn’t help to feel an absence some days. As though there were a voice missing from the chorus that sang to them every night.

The other fae worked to keep their kings company. Their days were full of stories, and their nights were full of dancing. Linnea’s final wish would be granted. Until the day her children died, not once could the nymphs ever be described as lonely.

Eventually, the barrier failed as well, and the fae scattered themselves in order to stay hidden. Orlean would fall, and magic would be forgotten, but a part of Linnea’s story would always remain. It lives on in the songs of the will-o-wisps, who still travel to the grove each night. They continued to sing for no one, songs meant for the king who had died oh so many years ago.